


The RE-Unification of Fodlan

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dom hilda, F/F, Flustered Claude, Multi, Other, Pegging, Post-Canon, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M, friends who fuck, hilda and marianne are married, just a good ol' fun romp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Claude has unified Fodlan. Now it's time to make the rounds and check in on his friends throughout the Alliance.He checks on Marianne and Hilda last, nervous that their one-time fling has made the couple feel awkward or nervous around him. But Claude soon learns that HE'S the bashful one.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Claude von Riegan, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	The RE-Unification of Fodlan

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [The Unification of Fodlan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865680).
> 
> HOWEVER, both these stories are just fun smut. This story will refer back to the first one, but if you haven't read that one, you certainly don't need to.

When Claude dismounted his horse to walk it up the cobbled lane between the gardens, Hilda herself emerged from the mansion to greet him.

She could have been mistaken for a stable hand or gardener. Her hair was up in its familiar pink ponytail, but her dress was simple, a pale garment that hung off her shoulders and swept down to her slippered feet. 

“Claude!” She waved as she ran to him.

Claude let out a breath. He'd been nervous about seeing her, in all honesty. On more mornings than he cared to admit, he awoke hard from a dream about the night Marianne and Hilda had boldly propositioned him. Replaying the adventure in his mind helped alleviate the ache tightening his whole body, but it always felt a little wrong, a little dirty. He shuddered to think what Hilda would do to him if she knew he was still fantasizing about her and her wife—shuddered and stirred, if he was being honest. 

Goddess, he had to get this out of his head. He was on a mission of _diplomacy_ , for the goddess' sake. With things quiet and running smoothly, he'd taken it upon himself to journey around the Alliance, visiting every territory he could reach. He'd seen Lorenz at the helm in Gloucester, one of his most trusted allies these days. He'd visited Goneril to see Holst, who was trying to turn his warrior's hands to peaceful pursuits. He'd even dipped into neighboring Almyra; they would become an ally if Claude had to spend the rest of his life brokering peace between Almyra and Fodlan.

And he'd taken some detours. To see Ignatz, now a renowned artist in Derdrui. To see Leonie and Raphael, mercenaries with little to do these days aside from challenge each other to drinking contests. To see Lysithea, who still struggled to find her own version of peace. 

The only place he hadn't visited yet was Edmund. Edmund, where Hilda and Marianne ruled. 

And now, Hilda was running toward him through the fragrant garden fronting the sprawling von Edmund estate, a plain, simple edifice of brownstone with a red-tile roof. 

Hilda skipped right past Claude's startled guards and nearly tackled him to the ground. 

“You jerk. What took you so long?” Hilda said.

Claude laughed and felt all his nerves and guilt melt away. He returned the embrace of one of his oldest friends. “The Alliance is a big place. I had a lot of folks to see.” 

Hilda pulled away to pout up at him. “And you left us for last?” 

He shrugged.

She stomped her foot, nearly stepping on him. “Unacceptable! I can't believe you made us wait all this time. Come inside. Johan will fetch the horses.” 

Claude followed, swept up in her enthusiasm. His guards trailed behind. Once inside, there were the usual formalities. Removing shoes caked in mud. Hanging aside cloaks. Consenting to a bath to wash off the muck of travel. 

“But where is Marianne?” Claude said. “I still haven't seen her. Technically speaking, my mission _is_ about meeting with the leaders of every territory. This isn't a purely social call.”

“Oh?” 

Claude swore Hilda rose her eyebrow just a touch at that. But—no. He shook himself. He'd been traveling too long. He couldn't let his mind stray like that. He was here for a purpose—a purely platonic purpose. 

“I'll fetch her,” Hilda said. “Just worry about cleaning up. You stink like horses. We can chat about—” she waved her hand “—political stuff while we eat.” 

Claude relented. It was rarely worth trying to argue with Hilda about anything and he especially didn't have the energy for it now, after traversing most of the Alliance and meeting with leader after leader. Plus, she was right. He did stink like horses.

The bath was a welcome reprieve after so much traveling, but it allowed him a little too much quiet. Hilda's welcome had been perfectly warm, but he couldn't help wondering why Marianne hadn't greeted him as well. Of the two, Hilda was clearly the better actress; if the couple had lingering misgivings about that crazy night after the party, Hilda would be able to hide it, but Marianne may not. 

Claude hunched in the tub, burying his face in his hands. Oh goddess, what an idiot he was. Why had he agreed to fuck one of his best friends and her wife? What a stupid, stupid idea. Hilda probably saw him as just some typical horny man now, chasing after her skirts. But that's never what she'd been to him. He hadn't even dared consider it until _she_ came to him with that crazy proposition. 

He should have said no. He should have just walked away and found someone else at the party. 

And yet … Goddess, what a night. 

He pinched himself. Now was _not_ the time for this. 

He surged out of the tub, toweling off a bit rougher than necessary and getting into clean clothes. Still, he took a deep breath before heading out of the washroom and back into the rest of the house.

It was truly a magnificent estate that Marianne had inherited. Claude's shoes clacked on a tiled floor. Portraits of the von Edmunds lined the walls, each looking stern and stately and official.

Claude made it back to the massive entry hall. Sweeping staircases bordered the far end of the room. Claude paused in the center of the hall, turning in circles. On all sides, doors lead to more halls and rooms. 

“This way.” 

He jerked around and saw Hilda poking out of one door, beckoning him to her. 

He followed her into a dining room. A long table cut down the center of the room. Candelabras sat upon the table, already lit though the sun still loitered above the horizon. Only one person sat at the table: Marianne von Edmund.

She rose when Claude followed Hilda into the room. She was slender and beautiful in a long blue dress. Marianne folded her hands in front of her as she smiled at Claude.

He felt his chest flutter. Marianne was like a porcelain statue, yet her smile and eyes were warm, welcoming. 

“Claude,” she said, “it's so good to see you again.”

Again. His mind hung on that word a beat too long, though he tried to shrug it off. Claude strode across the room and Marianne offered her hand. He kissed it and she giggled. Claude stayed bowed over her hand an extra second, concealing his reaction to the sweet ring of her laughter. 

Hilda slapped the back of his head. “Oh please,” she said. “Cut it out already.”

Claude straightened, rubbing his head. “Just being polite. Geeze.”

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Sure you are. Can we eat already?”

They clustered around the head of the table. It seemed a little ridiculous having just three people at such a massive table, but Claude forgot about it as the food emerged. Roasted hen in mustard sauce, boiled asparagus and cruste rolle, washed down with spiced wine and followed up with sweet dishes of pear tart and custard. Even if Claude hadn't been eating hard rations on the road for weeks, it would have been a feast. 

The meal made it difficult to concentrate on the business at hand, but Claude forced himself to remember his purpose in journeying this far. He asked Marianne about the social and political situation in Edmund, how the crops were faring in the aftermath of war, where disease and want yet lingered and therefore necessitated aid. 

Hilda mostly observed while Claude and Marianne did the heavy lifting of diplomacy. Claude could see her slinking down in her chair as he and Marianne went on, though. 

“This is _boring_ ,” Hilda finally said. 

Claude laughed. Marianne tried not to smile over at her partner. “It's important,” Marianne said. “We're doing well, but we still have challenges. People need help. We can't just abandon them.” 

“And we won't,” Claude assured her. “We have more than enough resources to see to your hardest hit regions. We'll get people back on their feet the moment we can.” 

“Thank you, Claude,” Marianne said. “The people here still believe in you. They still have faith in you as the Alliance's leader. We're going to be OK.” 

She reached over, putting her hand over his. He couldn't help but smile. “We will. No one will go without here. I swear it.” 

“Boooooring.” Hilda slapped her hands on the table as she stood. “Claude, get up.”

“Uh, excu–”

“Get up,” Hilda said.

He did.

“We're going to the parlor,” Hilda announced. “We're going to drink that crazy Aegir wine and we're going to _stop_ with all the boring work.” 

Claude looked to Marianne, who only shrugged. 

“Well, I suppose we were mostly finished,” Claude conceded. “Marianne, I think I have all I need in order to arrange the necessary aid.” 

Marianne rose, cool and collected. “Agreed. I suppose we could set aside business for now.” 

She turned, taking Hilda's hand, but Claude could have sworn there was a slight smile on her lips as she said that last bit. He shook his head as he followed the couple. 

Hilda took them to a small adjoining room. It was a lot more cozy than the big, stately dining room with its empty table. The parlor had a few chairs, a plush rug and walls lined with books. Claude was instantly hit with the smell of wood and vanilla, of well-loved tomes and the ash of long-extinguished hearth fires. 

Hilda dropped into a large leather chair, flopping out dramatically. Meanwhile, Marianne spoke with a servant outside the door, presumably about the “crazy Aegir wine.” 

Claude was left to wander the bookshelves in wonder, skimming his fingertips along dusty spines. There was enough knowledge in this room to keep him busy for the rest of his life, but he suspected he'd only get a brief, fleeting glimpse. 

“It was my adoptive father's,” Marianne said. 

Claude started. She was standing beside him, quietly smiling at the books on the shelf. Regal and secure in her position as margrave, Marianne had a new confidence, a new poise that reminded Claude of a queen. 

He swallowed before responding. “It's quite the collection.”

She offered a sedate smile that shoved Claude's heart into his throat. 

He was spared further embarrassment by the return of the servant, now carrying a bottle of wine and three glasses. He poured the wine and made to exit, but Hilda entreated him to leave the bottle behind. 

“Very well,” he said, exiting with a bow. 

Hilda hadn't left the large leather chair, but she waved at the wine set on a circular table beside it. “Come have some.” 

Marianne went first. She and Hilda clinked their glasses together. Marianne took a cautious sip, Hilda a hearty swig. Then Marianne folded up to sit at Hilda's feet and Hilda immediately started stroking Marianne's hair. It was such a warm, comfortable, natural position for the both of them, as though they'd always been meant for lazy evenings cuddling against each other. 

“Come on, Claude,” Hilda said. “Try this. It's crazy good.” 

He took his glass, sitting in a leather chair a few paces away from the couple. It made him feel warm just to watch them so happy and content, but when he sipped the wine he instantly felt warmer. It really was good, perhaps “crazy” good, sweet and light despite its dark red color, with a crisp, refreshing aftertaste that made it all too easy to drink more. 

And in truth, he sort of needed it. The warm welcome and food and bath had helped, but Claude still felt a bit on edge around the couple. It was like the night after that party hadn't even happened. That should have comforted him, he supposed, but instead it made him feel like a cloud was hanging over every interaction, a storm waiting to break. And when it did … would they even still want him here? Or would he just be an unwelcome intrusion barging in on their comfortable, loving, cozy life?

Claude's first glass was empty and his head was swimming with both the wine and his own doubts. But even as Hilda poured him a second glass, even as Marianne squeezed onto the leather chair to cuddle closer to her wife, the topic hanging over them remained lingering in the air.

When Marianne started nuzzling at Hilda's neck, her cheeks rosy from the wine, Claude could take it no longer. 

“Hey, look,” he said, “if you want me to go, it's really fine. It's kinda late to ride out, but I can get out of your way first thing in the morning.” 

“Out of our way?” Hilda said as though Marianne wasn't kissing up her neck. “Why would we want that?”

“I...” Claude had no idea how to respond. His gaze flickered to Marianne.

Hilda must have noticed. “Wait, are you—do you—” She started laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Are you still hung up on that?” 

“I'm not … hung up...” Claude tried. 

“You totally are!” Hilda said, laughing harder. Marianne looked up, her eyes glassy from alcohol. She seemed to have forgotten Claude was there at all until Hilda reminded her. “Sweet Sothis, men are so simple. Were we really that amazing?”

A rush of heat flooded Claude's face. “It—I—you were—” 

Hilda was practically howling with laughter now, Marianne sitting up straighter in her lap to regard Claude. 

He gulped down his wine, wishing the glass was larger so it could hide more of his face. He let the warm, sweet alcohol hit his stomach. No way around this anymore. The storm had broken. 

He sighed, setting aside the empty wine glass. “OK, yes.” 

“Huh?” Hilda said. 

“Yes,” Claude repeated. “Yes, I still think about … about that night after the party. But that's not why I came here. It's a pleasant memory, to be sure, but I would have come here anyway for the sake of the Alliance. I'm not a boy. I came here only—only—for the sake of peace, not for my own sake. And definitely not for … for that.” 

He took a breath. There. Finally. It was out. He could slink off to bed, embarrassed and tipsy, and get out of here the next morning, red in the face but successful in his true objective. That's what really mattered anyway. 

Hilda seemed to have other ideas.

She slipped free of Marianne, strutted up to Claude's chair and set her hands on the arms, caging him in, leaning so close he could smell the wine on her breath.

“You know, it's OK if you liked it,” she said. 

He swallowed. 

“We liked it too.” She smirked. “Didn't we, Mari?” 

Claude glanced past Hilda to see Marianne on the leather chair, covering her face with her hands but nodding nonetheless. 

Claude startled when he felt a finger tracing the exposed skin at his collar. 

“But we were kinda thinking,” Hilda said, “that there's a whole lot we never got around to. Don't you agree?” 

Claude struggled just to blink. That seemed to be enough agreement for Hilda. 

“So please don't tell me you're just here for business,” Hilda said. “That would be just _painfully_ boring. And we'd miss out on … a surprise.”

“S-surpise?” His voice sounded faint and weak and pathetic even to his own ears. 

“Mhm,” Hilda said. “But we need your help for it. What do you say?” 

She was so close now that her lips hung before him like a tantalizing promise. He struggled not to let his eyes wander down to the cleavage spilling from the front of her dress. 

Claude von Reigan had been many things in his life, but a fool was not one of them.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, OK. Sure.” 

He only saw the smile curl Hilda's mouth for a moment before she closed the narrow space between them, pressing her lips to his. The sweetness of the wine in their mouths mingled, so potent it made Claude's head swim.

She pulled away all too quickly, returning to the chair to help Marianne up out of it. “Get the thing, OK, love?” Hilda said.

“That thing?” Marianne said.

“Mhm,” Hilda said. “We shouldn't let the opportunity go to waste.” 

“O-OK,” Marianne said. 

Before Claude had time to ask questions, she swept out of the room, leaving him with Hilda, who returned to where he sat, climbing into his lap, her strong thighs pinning him down as she set her hands on his shoulders. It was clear he wasn't going anywhere unless she wanted him to. 

And that seemed just fine.

Her mouth was back on his, pressing him into the chair while she straddled his hips. Claude felt his tenuous grasp on his surprise, on his questions and confusion, slip away as Hilda smothered his mouth. Her hands squeezed his shoulders. He let his own wander toward her hips, gliding up her thighs. His fingertips traced up under the hem of her dress, trembling over smooth skin.

She drew back, getting a hand in his hair. “You were so good for us last time,” she said, voice husky. “Gonna be good again?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Mmm, I bet you are.” She pet his hair before giving it a tug, displaying just how quickly she could go from reward to discipline. 

He didn't mind. “I'll behave,” he said.

“I know you will,” she said. “You're such a good boy, aren't you?”

“Yes.” 

Her smile turned into something sharp, sending prickles down his spine. Fear honeyed the arousal tenting his trousers. It wasn't fear of her; rather, it was fear of how far he wanted her to push him, how eagerly he wanted her to command him. 

He startled when Marianne re-entered the room carrying a velvet bag. Hilda beckoned her over, slipping an arm around Marianne's waist when she drew near. Claude was soon left in the strange position of having his hands on Hilda's thighs while she sat in his lap making out with her wife. Not that he was complaining. It was just … not where he thought the day was taking him. 

Hilda slid off his lap, standing to pull Marianne against her body and kiss her more deeply. Marianne made a startled little noise. Hilda gripped her waist, pulling her in tighter, pressing their bodies together. 

Claude was just beginning to wonder if they'd forgotten him entirely when they broke apart. Hilda glanced over at him, crooking a finger. Yet when he started to stand, she said, “Ah, ah.” He paused, confused, then she went on: “Knees.” 

He dropped to the floor immediately, looking up at the couple, awaiting his next instruction. 

“Hilda, don't be mean,” Marianne said.

“It's not mean,” Hilda said. “He likes it. Look. He's practically panting.” 

“Hilda...” 

Marianne kneeled in front of Claude, trailing her fingers along his facial hair. Her soft touch dredged up memories of the last time this improbable scenario had occurred. She leaned close, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, so soft he nearly missed it. It was all the more precious for its gentleness. 

“Bohhhr-riiing,” Hilda interjected. 

She snatched Marianne away, tackling her to the ground. Marianne giggled as Hilda wrestled her to the rug, causing Marianne to lose her little velvet bag in the process. Hilda started kissing down her neck, nipping at her collar, even as her hands roamed up to grope at Marianne's breasts over her dress. Marianne responded instantly, her giggles turning to gasps.

Hilda paused, looking over her shoulder at Claude, still kneeling behind them. “Are you going to help or are you going to watch?”

“I...”

Hilda rolled her eyes, going back to kissing up Marianne's neck. Claude shuffled on his knees toward the couple. He had no idea how to “help,” where to start, what to do. Hilda was crouched over Marianne, her ass in the air. 

Claude reached for that perky rump, running a hand over it. Hilda made a sound between amusement and enjoyment. Good enough, Claude supposed. He got his hand under her dress again, reaching up until he found bare skin. 

He realized with a start that Hilda had probably been wearing nothing under the dress since the moment she'd run out of the door to greet him. That … was something. Nearly enough something to distract him from the handful of ass under his palm.

Nearly. But not quite. 

His hand trailed lower, to the warmth and heat between her legs. Claude could feel how hot her pussy was even before he touched it. When he skimmed a finger along her folds, Hilda moaned and pushed against his hand. 

He rubbed more intently, but she was already wet. Claude swirled a finger around her entrance, along her lips, against her clit. He could feel her eagerness even from that; it made his cock throb. 

Hilda sat up. Claude nearly whimpered. Marianne lay on the ground, flushed and disheveled, her dress askew. 

“Hurry up,” Hilda said. “She's all warmed up.”

“What will you do?” Claude said.

“Don't you worry about me.” Hilda winked.

Claude might have pondered that—should have pondered that—but honestly he didn't care just then. He dove to the task she'd set him, pushing Marianne's dress the rest of the way up her thighs. She, unlike Hilda, did have undergarments on, but those quickly came off. 

Marianne gnawed on her finger as she watched Claude position between her knees. He waited and she gave him a little nod. 

Finally, he got his mouth and tongue against her cunt, lapping at the wetness already there. He sucked at her clit before pressing his tongue between her folds, carefully noting the spots that made her gasp and arch. Claude used his fingers to help him probe deeper between her lips. He licked up her sweetness, her heady fragrance. It replaced the air around him, replaced the lingering taste of wine in his mouth. Goddess, it was lovely. 

Then he felt a finger along his back, a single digit tracing his spine until it reached his waistband. Hilda teased at his trousers. 

“Hmmm, what shall we do with this?” she mused in a sing-song voice. “Mari, do you have any opinions?” 

But Marianne was too busy moaning as Claude licked up her pussy. 

“What about you, Claude?” 

He paused, his mouth wet with Marianne's juices. “I … I'm not opposed to … getting rid of them.” 

“Oh yeah? Do you think you've earned that already?” Hilda said. “Mari, has he been good?” 

Claude looked to Marianne, his heart fluttering. _Please say yes._

She was flushed, panting, nibbling on her finger, her eyes lidded and glassy. She nodded. 

“Hm, well, if you say so,” Hilda said. 

Claude nearly fell when Hilda unceremoniously yanked his pants and undergarments off, using the raw strength that had once hefted great axes. 

“Damn, Claude,” she said. “All that horse riding is paying off.” She ran her hand along his ass, then gave him a sharp little smack followed, ridiculously, by a giggle. 

Claude had never been so turned on in his life. 

He decided to worry about the implications of that later. 

For now, Hilda was telling him to lay on his back and Claude was doing just that, awaiting the next twist in her strange plan. Marianne crawled over him and for an instant he thought she might sit on his face and give him the delicious gift of her taste again, but she kept moving. Then Marianne's hand was on his cock, stroking light and slow. He nearly choked. 

“Not too much,” Hilda was saying. “We want him good and ready, but not _too_ ready, if you get my meaning.” 

Marianne whimpered a reply before lowering herself onto Claude's cock. He reached for her hips. Her breasts hung over him as she leaned forward, putting her hands on his chest. Her face twisted. 

“Is-is it OK?” he said. 

She released a shuddering breath. Her eyes were still squeezed shut when she said, “It's good.” 

It was hardly a whisper, but it sent shudders through his whole body. He could feel her tight and warm around him. When she started to rock her hips, they both gasped. Claude struggled not to dig his fingers into her thighs, even as her nails bit crescents into his chest. 

“Oh goddess,” she whimpered like a prayer. 

Claude had done far stranger things with far stranger people, but for some reason Marianne's gentle, exploratory rocking atop his cock made his whole body tighten like he might explode. 

Hilda scooted close to her wife and started rubbing at her clit. Marianne yelped, her nails so sharp against Claude he was sure she was drawing blood. He could feel her quivering as Hilda expertly teased her. She tightened around him, squeezing his cock. 

Hilda used a free hand to grope Marianne's breast over her dress. Claude was helpless to do anything but watch the display occurring right on top of him. Marianne arched back against Hilda, who kissed at her neck and whispered into her ear. 

Claude felt Marianne's whole body tense, felt a rush of warmth as she shivered atop him. Goddess, how he longed to follow. 

But Hilda was fixing him with her sharp, devious eyes. He bit his lip to stifle a whimper as Hilda guided Marianne off him. He felt like he could cum at a breath, but Hilda clearly didn't plan to let it end that quickly. 

She opened the velvet bag. 

Claude had nearly forgotten about it. Hilda pulled a series of straps out of it. Then a long object shaped like … like … Claude blinked. 

Hilda stepped into the straps, securing them around her hips. She was completely naked now save for the straps. She sat beside Marianne, who lay on the rug trying to catch her breath. 

“Mari, my love, you need to do it. Can you?” 

Marianne nodded, struggling to sit up. As Claude watched, a trickle of magic curled around her hands. As she stroked the oblong toy, the magic on her fingers coiled around the object instead. It flopped a little in Hilda's hand, suddenly much softer than how it had started.

“That's really good,” Hilda said. “Yeah, that'll do.” 

“Do for what?” Claude said. 

“Weeeeell,” Hilda said. She stood. His mouth fell open as he watched her slick up the toy with oil and insert one end in herself. Sweet, merciful gods, that thing looked good attached to her. 

“You see, Mari and I usually play with this with each other,” Hilda said. “But you're our very special guest. So I was thinking that this time you should get the honors.” 

“The... honors...”

Hilda's smirk curled at the corners. “I want to fuck you, Claude. Is that clear enough?” 

He swallowed, even as his cock twitched. Hilda noticed. 

She came close, crouching beside where he lay half-propped up on his arms. “Do you want that?” she said, low and close. “Would you like it if I fucked you?” 

It took him a moment to dig through the tangle of his throat and find his voice, but when he did, he merely said, “Yes.” 

“Good,” she said. “Because I'd like that very, very much.” 

“O-OK.” 

“Have you done this before?” 

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “A long time ago.” Lifetimes ago, to be honest. As barely more than a boy and in the heat of battle. He remembered little aside from having one of the greatest orgasms of his entire life.

“Well, don't worry,” Hilda said. “I'll get you good and ready.” She winked and it sent shivers through him. “Get on all fours.”

He hasted to follow her instruction. 

“Goddess, that's a nice ass,” she said. She ran her hand over it. He could feel how slick her fingers already were. They teased closer and closer to his entrance until they were playing around the rim, igniting nerves he'd long ago forgotten about. 

He dared make a request of his own. “M-Marianne should—she should—” 

“I like how you think,” Hilda said. Even as she played with him, she instructed Marianne to place herself before him again. 

Marianne had abandoned her dress at last and spread out before him. He needed no instruction to lower his head back to her sweet pussy, keeping his ass in the air for Hilda to toy with. 

He gasped against Marianne when Hilda pushed a finger inside him. He had to remind himself to relax as she prodded around, easing his tight walls.

“Another?” she said.

He nodded, making a strangled sound of assent around Marianne's cunt. A second finger found its way inside. He knew the toy was far larger, but he groaned around the feel of those fingers coaxing him open. 

“That's it,” Hilda said. “Relax. Let me in.” 

He desperately desired to do just that. He focused on the taste of Marianne, on the fragrance of her arousal all around him, fresh wetness mingling with the orgasm she'd earlier enjoyed. Claude was determined to see her get a second, a third, as many as she wanted. 

He popped a finger in his mouth, rubbing at her entrance even while Hilda worked his. Marianne whined and he nudged the finger inside. 

“Oh,” she exhaled. 

He started pumping that single digit, slow and deliberate, while still licking at her cunt. He lost his focus when he felt Hilda's fingers slip out of him, replaced by something larger. The toy rubbed between his cheeks, teasing. 

“Are you ready?” Hilda said. “Do you want it?” 

“Yes,” he said. 

“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me what you want.” 

He gulped, licking his lips and tasting Marianne all over them. “I … I want you to fuck me. Please.”

He could feel Hilda's smile, even without being able to see it. “Mmm, sounds like a lot of work. But you did so good for Marianne. I suppose you've earned it.” 

“Yes, please.” He couldn't stand the teasing for another second. He needed it now, needed it like he needed air. “Hilda.”

“Oooh, I like it when you say my name like that, all pathetic and whiny.” She hunched over him, her words close. “I'm going to make you say it more. Lots more.” 

He flushed hot and cold all at once. Hilda got more oil on him and the toy both, then positioned it at his entrance. He tried to relax, to help her in, but the initial push still took some trying. 

She left just the tip of the toy in him. Claude panted. He felt so full even just from that. He'd completely lost track of Marianne beneath him, even with his finger still inside her. 

“How's that? Ready for more?” Hilda said. 

It wasn't even a question. “Y-yes please. Please.” 

He drew in a sharp breath as Hilda pushed more of the toy into him. Every time he thought he'd reached a limit she nudged in a little deeper. 

When she stopped, he felt stretched and tight, dragged toward some wonderful, horrible precipice he'd never even imagined. 

“How are we doing up there?” Hilda said.

“G-good,” he managed. “Good.” 

He hadn't realized he'd taken his finger out of Marianne and planted his hands on the ground until Marianne was sitting up, cupping his face in her hands to kiss him. That made him tingle everywhere, including around the toy. 

Hilda gasped. “Oh, I can feel it,” she said. “Mari, this is incredible.” 

Feel it. She could _feel it_ , feel _him_? Sweet Seiros. What had Marianne done to that toy?

Hilda swayed, just a touch, but it left both of them gasping. 

“Wow,” Hilda breathed. “Wow, this is good. Oh shit. Claude, I need to fuck you now.”

“Please,” he rasped in response. “Hilda.”

She gripped his ass, swaying more purposely this time, rocking in and out of him. Marianne backed away enough that Claude could get his hand back on her pussy. He nudged inside easily and soon she was whimpering in time with Claude, now propped up on one arm so he could pleasure her. 

Meanwhile, Hilda was making quick work of him. His ass was slick with oil, the toy sliding in and out more easily with every stroke. It was still strange, still odd and filling and sometimes awkward, but as Hilda continued a new sensation built in him, one that blotted out all sense, all thought, all feelings that weren't _more!_

Claude's arms were shaking. He lowered to his forearms, using his mouth on Marianne instead, lapping up her taste. It made him feel unsteady, even with Hilda gripping his hips to press into him.

“Fuck!” he gasped.

Hilda hit something inside him, something good. Really, really fucking good. 

“There it is,” she huffed.

She drew back, only to cruelly hit that place again. He quivered, hardly able to even keep licking at Marianne. 

Hilda came back for more over and over. Claude's cock was leaking, working against gravity to press at his belly. Marianne gripped his hair, pulling, keeping his mouth against her pussy. She cried out nearly as loudly as he did, her fingers coiling tighter and tighter as he licked. 

Behind him, Hilda's hands gripped his ass so tight he was sure she'd leave marks. He didn't care, not so long as she kept slamming that toy against the thing inside him making his eyes roll to the back of his head. 

Marianne's grip tightened suddenly. He felt a fresh wash of wetness against his lips, perfect and fragrant and warm. 

Her hand loosened reluctantly and Claude was left bereft of her taste. He surrendered entirely, face on the rug, eyes squeezed shut, legs splayed and ass high as Hilda fucked him almost literally into the floor. 

“You're so good,” Hilda said. “You're so fucking good. Just stay like that. Goddess, you're wonderful.”

He could do nothing but whimper in reply.

“You want it so bad. You want me to let you cum, don't you?” She was rasping, breathing heavily. And still she made the space to tease him verbally as she tortured him deliciously by pounding into him. “You want me to hit it just a little harder, let it take you over the edge at last. You wanted it the second you got here, you dirty little schemer. Look at you, the leader of the Alliance, drooling on my carpet and getting his ass pounded. You're so good and filthy.” 

“Yeah,” he chanted in response to her jabs. “Yeah. Yeah.” 

She somehow hit him harder, somehow pressed even more firmly into him. He knew he was getting loud now, too loud, so loud the rest of the house could probably hear him. But goddess, did he ever not care. He babbled her name as Hilda brought him to a height he'd never even fathomed. 

“Oh shit, I'm almost there,” she said. “Oh shit.” 

He was there and then some. But even so he waited, obedient, until he felt her hitch against him, pressing the toy in to its deepest point, gripping his ass so tight her nails carved into his skin, letting out a cry as she lingered there, taut and tight and unrelenting.

It was too much. With her still there, still pressing persistently into that place inside him, Claude lost control of his body. He cried out wordlessly as his cock twitched, managing to explode over his chest as well as the carpet. The world went blindingly white. He clutched the rug until he thought he might tear it. 

Hilda relaxed. When she eased the toy out of him, he fell limp to the carpet, his face still pressed into the fibers, his body flaccid atop the wet mess he'd made. Aftershocks beat through him, sending memories of pleasure to his quivering ass. 

He was still panting against the carpet when Marianne and Hilda sat beside him. Marianne was running a cool cloth down his back and over his ass, cleaning up the lingering sweat and oil. Hilda stroked his hair. 

“Mari, did you get enough?” Hilda said. 

“Oh,” Marianne sounded embarrassed suddenly. “Oh, yes, certainly.”

“Good, cuz I definitely did.” Hilda brushed his hair off his face with surprising tenderness. “And it looks like he did, too.” 

Claude could do little more than nod. He placed his hand over hers, letting the gesture speak in place of his useless mouth. 

“I know you're all busy and important now, Claude,” Hilda said, “but I really think you should consider coming to visit us more often. That's the first time I've used that thing like that. There's _so_ much more I think we should try.”

His body tried to react to that, but it was so exhausted, so utterly, completely drained and satisfied, that the reminder of arousal was almost painful. 

“What do you say?” 

He gathered his waning strength, gathered every bit of air and energy he had left in his whole body, and said the only thing he thing he could, the only thing he ought, the only thing he knew she wanted to hear:

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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